


Rebirth of a Dark Lord

by Strabo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Manipulation, Manipulative Gellert Grindelwald, POV Gellert Grindelwald, Psychology, Rebirth, Reincarnated Harry Potter, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strabo/pseuds/Strabo
Summary: Gellert Grindelwald dies in Nurmengard and welcomes Death with open arms, making his rebirth in one Harry James Potter all the more irritating. Updates on Saturdays.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	1. Prologue

# Rebirth of a Dark Lord Chapter 1: Prologue, a harry potter fanfic | FanFiction

Rebirth of a Dark Lord.

Prologue

Updates: Saturdays. Chapters will be around 9k words.

Summary: Gellert dies in Nurmengard and welcomes Death with open arms, making his rebirth in one Harry James Potter all the more irritating

Warnings: maybe a tiny bit of gore in the future, swearing.

REPOST FROM MY FFNET ACCOUNT!

* * *

A hundred years he'd lived. Not much for a wizard. Considering the state in which he had had to 'live' these past, what was it? Twenty years? Twenty five? He consulted his wall — where he'd dutifully scratched in a tally-mark for every day spent in this cell — ah yes, thirty five years he'd spent in this prison. Well, considering all of that, how meagre his meals were and how generally abysmal his health was, living to a hundred was a miracle.

All things considered, Albus had been kind to him. This cell had been taken care of. He'd been taken care of.

He lay in his cot and examined the cell. The circular room housed the aforementioned cot, a wall of books (now in tatters, but all written by him) and a desk covered in parchments and quills. There was a little bathroom area to the side.

It was all made of massive stones and save for a little arch, the opening through which he received his books and reading materials, there was little else that was warm or comforting in this place. Although, he supposed that that was the point. He'd enjoyed the process of building this demonstrative and foreboding castle in the Austrian alps. And the fact that he'd been imprisoned here, as the prison's sole prisoner, spoke to Albus' belief in the impeccability of the wards that Gellert himself had constructed.

And speaking of Albus—

It was sudden and silent — a wall melted away, revealing the wizard in his full glory. Gellert snorted in derision at his own thoughts just as a coughing fit suddenly overwhelmed him. Albus was instantly at his side. Oh the fool. If this had been faked, Gellert could've stolen his wand away from him.

Albus waved his wand, a wand that had once been Gellert's. In an instant, the coughing eased, but a burning feeling remained in his chest.

Gellert took a shuddering breath.

"Oh my friend…" Albus whispered, pulling Gellert up into a sitting position, before himself sitting down at his side.

Gellert closed his eyes as the pain in his chest increased. Pneumonia. He was sure of it. How commonly muggle to die of such a disease.

"They told me you were close—" Albus broke off suddenly, emotion overwhelming him. Oh the fool. After all these years, he still held emotion for Gellert?

"Well, it was going to be a peaceful death until you arrived," Gellert replied, maybe slightly teasingly. His eyes flashed open in one last show of strength. Albus was giving him a soft smile.

"I _am_ sorry it all happened this way, Gellert," Albus said eventually. Gellert searched his face, not really sure what he was looking for. "You could have been great, my friend."

"You did what you thought was right. No need to justify it, Albus. After all, you followed your own idea of what you thought was ' _für das höhere Wohl_ '." Albus winced slightly and he bowed his head.

"If you had listened…"

Ironically enough, they now descended into silence. There was a faint clanking sound as the little feeding-gate opened and a bowl of porridge was pushed through. Neither man stood up to get it.

"My will—" Gellert weakly gestured at his desk. Albus swallowed harshly but summoned it. There were wards covering this cell against the use of magic, but it seemed there was an exemption for the Elder Wand and he who wielded it.

"I will execute it, of course."

"No need, Albus. I'm leaving it all to you anyway. Might do you some good to read my thoughts on—"

Another coughing fit.

It ravaged his chest, leaving a burning pain behind. This time, whatever Albus tried to do with his wand, Gellert felt his body reject. It was time, he realised. Death was coming for him.

His vision blurred and he suddenly saw Albus' figure above him casting this and that. But clear as day, another figure appeared before him, which the Headmaster could evidently not see.

"Gellert…." It whispered to him. He welcomed Death with open arms.

.

About a thousand kilometres away, a witch had just gone into labour — in a muggle hospital, no less. It took several hours of pain, screaming, fainting (the husband, not the wife, the nurses remarked), but eventually, just as the clock struck midnight, a child was born.

Once James Potter had been revived with a combination of gentle patting on his cheek and a hex (courtesy of Sirius Black), and his wife, Lily, had woken from her short nap, the child was named Harry James Potter. He was passed to the husband, James, who tearfully kissed him all over.

It was only a few months later that the body of the baby that was known as Harry Potter had developed enough biologically, that Gellert's soul cognitively understood what had happened. The horror of it all overwhelmed him with panic and within seconds, he woke the entire household with his screams. Gellert Grindelwald was reborn.

Lily Potter groaned and rolled out of bed, stumbling to the nursery, clutching a baby blanket in one hand and a bottle of milk in the other.


	2. Chapter 1

# Rebirth of a Dark Lord Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic | FanFiction

_I thought that I had to clear something up: while I will have tropes in this fic, definitely, they will be grounded in the realism of the world of Harry Potter. And they won't be the central part of the story. The central idea is how Gellert transforms into someone else. He begins as this sort of snarky Snape character and well… you'll see what he becomes. But ultimately, I'm not here to judge him or what he did as a Dark Lord. I do find it fascinating to write a charismatic, manipulative character._

_Gellert is arrogant, he's smart, but he also_ thinks _he's the smartest one in the room, he's magically powerful, and he's prideful. Those were issues that provoked his downfall in the last war. Also he spent some 30-odd years imprisoned, unable to cast magic and speak to anyone but Albus who occasionally visited (ehh my headcanon). So this will be a Gellert with a slightly asocial inclination. Not quite a sociopath… And while I hated pretty much everything about Grindelwald in the Fantastic Beasts movies, I really liked Depp's charisma._

_This story isn't going to follow canon, except for the things that aren't under Gellert's control._

_Thank you for your belief in this story - and for following it! I'm really surprised by the interest, especially considering as I am a really new author and have no actual 'follower' base. Thank you!_

Rebirth of a Dark Lord.

Chapter 1

Updates: Saturdays. Chapters will be around 9k words. Word count chapter 1: 10,100

Summary: Gellert Grindelwald dies in Nurmengard and welcomes Death with open arms, making his rebirth in one Harry James Potter all the more irritating

Warnings: maybe a tiny bit of gore in the future, swearing.

* * *

For what felt like the first three months of his new life, Gellert could only remember faint impressions. He was a completely instinctual creature who screamed and cried when he was hungry, cried again when something displeased him and yet again when he hurt himself accidentally. He was quite determined to get up on his own to feet and be able to walk independently.

He became aware in his fourth month of his new life that he was called Harry and by the fifth, he recognised himself in a mirror. He was pudgy, as babies were wont to be, with inky black hair, and startling green eyes. His skin was pale, as his parents of this time didn't really seem too want to keep him in the sun for long periods of time.

He learned quickly that his mother's name was Lily or Lilypod or Lilypoo, or 'darling' as his father James often referred to her. He wasn't certain about the last name. No one ever really seemed to say it out loud. They had three friends who periodically visited them. Sirius (oh, so definitely a pureblood), Peter, and Remus (who always looked ill).

So, for the first seven months of his life, Gellert waited like a sitting duck for his emotions to stabilise, his crying to restrict itself, and for his body to develop enough to be able to walk at least a few steps at a time. Alas, it seemed that although there were ways to cheat Death, physical development wasn't something that could be surmounted by sheer determination.

"Well, he's frightfully intelligent," Lily said to Sirius one brilliantly snowy February morning. They were both nursing warm cups of tea. James was away on Auror duties and Sirius just happened to have a free day, which he was spending with Lily, helping her to redecorate some of the lower levels of the little cottage she and James had purchased in Godric's Hollow.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes," Lily gushed happily. "He follows the words on the page when I read to him, walks around, and gosh, Sirius! He recognises himself in the mirror already! I caught him pulling faces at it the other day."

They laughed together.

"Married life treating you well, then," Sirius said, taking a sip from his cuppa. Lily grinned.

"Well, there's the odd fight here and then, sure. But James is really quite devoted. I'm glad Mary convinced me to go on that date with him in our sixth year."

"Oh, the end of our pranking days, that was," Sirius said, putting his face in his hands dramatically. Lily rolled her eyes at him. Their conversation died down as their thoughts both turned to other reasons as to why the pranking days had ended. Suddenly Sirius felt Lily's hand on his.

"I know Regulus wasn't really family by this point, but I _am_ really sorry. It made me want to reach out to my sister, you know? Say I do love her, even with everything that happened to us…"

Sirius smiled sadly and was about to say something when they were distracting by a suddenly moaning Harry. The baby had been sleeping soundly in the nook of Lily's arm. She set her cup aside and stroked his hair as his eyes fluttered open. His head cocked to the side as he took the scene in.

"Pa'foot," the boy said in the tiniest of voices. Sirius grinned at Lily.

"Oh, this one's gonna be a Marauder for sure!"

Again, Lily rolled her eyes.

"You can see me, right?" Sirius asked in a cooing sort of tone. The boy's frown looked oddly misplaced on his young face but he gave a slow nod, delighting Lily as it showed understanding.

Sirius covered his face with his hands. "Oh you can't see me now!"

The frown stayed causing Lily to laugh. Sirius dejectedly uncovered his face, just in time to see a mischievous glint enter Harry's irritated gaze. And 'poof', the next instant, Harry became invisible.

Lily and Sirius both yelped in surprise.

"Oh my God—"

"Merlin!"

"Did he just?-"

"He did—"

"Oh… Jamie will be so jealous he wasn't here to see this!"

"You call him Jamie?" Sirius asked, grinning and looking at her strangely. Harry's bout of accidental invisibility died out and the baby reappeared to the delight of Lily and his godfather.

"Invisibility at seven months?!" Lily exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief as she grinned down at her child, proudly.

"I can't believe it!"

"I know, me neither," Lily replied. Sirius waved her off.

"No, no, I can't believe I just won a bet against Peter! I said up to a year before his first accidental magic!"

"Sirius!"

She promptly hexed him.

.

Gellert's parents had never really truly loved him. Yes, his mother had been kind to him, and she had tolerated him. But she hadn't loved him enough to save him from his father's beatings. He'd grown up in Prussia, a state known for its military prowess, but also for its slightly brutal and strict pedagogy. Durmstrang had been a safe haven away from the beatings and psychological terror.

So seeing James and Lily love him without an agenda, with complete heart, melted his own icy rock ever so slightly. He'd gathered by now that Lily was a muggleborn and this translated to the odd traditions she felt she had to fulfil with her own child. Like read to him in bed (which Gellert found he actually, guiltily liked), feed him (wizarding families tended to rely on nannies or house-elves), and generally spend most of her day with him.

She was studying parallel to all of this, for what seemed to be a charms or ancient runes mastery, which gave Gellert a wonderful opportunity to stretch out his mental muscles and read along with whichever text she placed in front of her to read over. He'd helpfully highlighted a few passages a few times, when she wasn't looking.

James… well, he was difficult. He was very outgoing. Gellert had always been somewhat of an introvert, and the last thirty-odd years in solitude had certainly reinforced that. His father was a bundle of energy, even after a tiring day at work. _And_ he was an Auror — a dark wizard catcher, which meant that Gellert automatically already disproved of him.

What a disgustingly light family. At least his father in his previous lifetime had had an extensive library on both dark and light magic.

His first birthday came and went. A group of adults were invited (Remus, Peter, Sirius, of course), along with another boy of his age - an unfortunately named Neville Longbottom. He was generally boring, but the parents seemed to be on good terms with the Potters, so Gellert decided to make an effort.

Sirius had brought him a broom as a present and Gellert had easily mounted it, almost like a natural (well, he _did_ have half a century of practice behind him), and zoomed off. It flew only about two feet off the ground, but he managed to avoid the adults quite easily as he wove between them… until, that is, he froze in mid air and was suddenly confronted with a face he hadn't expected to see quite so soon.

Albus Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes were staring at him. He'd appeared quietly in the back garden, where the little party was taking place. And Gellert had almost crashed into him, had it not been for the man's quick instincts and sharp reflexes.

"And you must be Harry," Albus said cheerfully, that twinkle in his eye ever-present.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Lily exclaimed, rushing over to greet him. "I wasn't sure you'd come!"

"Ah, my dear Lily! I'm no longer your headmaster. Please call me Albus."

His mother blushed and eagerly took Gellert into her arms, who'd been fleeing most of the adults for most of the evening. This was her chance to capture him before he zoomed off on the broom again. He squirmed uncomfortably in her arms. Albus peered down in interest.

"And how is our Harry doing? Growing by the day, I see," Albus said warmly. It seemed he held the Potters in high regard, especially to come to their son's birthday party. How odd. It wasn't like Harry Potter was special at all, Gellert thought.

"Oh, he already cast his first accidental magic!" Lily said happily, cooing at her son proudly. Gellert frowned reflexively. He'd been seven months old when it happened, very early for a first accident.

"Oh, indeed?" Albus said with more interest. He was now scrutinising Gellert, who had finally given up fleeing his mother's iron hold.

"You shoulda seen it professor, we were pretending to disappear from him, you know, that muggle game that old people do," Sirius said suddenly, appearing at Lily's side. "And then he disappeared!"

"Disappeared? Became invisible?" Albus arched an eyebrow. Lily and Sirius nodded proudly. "Impressive. It seems your husband's cloak might not come in use to him in the future."

Cloak? Invisibility cloak? Gellert perked up in interest. It couldn't be… could it? After all, why would Albus Dumbledore of all people be interested in an invisibility cloak if it wasn't…

"Oh, yes, James mentioned you had borrowed it for some research project," Lily commented.

"Alas, in my impatience to travel to Godric's Hollow, I forgot it again. Ah, but my present — this I didn't forget!"

From within his robe pocket, Albus suddenly produced an elegantly packaged parcel which he handed directly to Gellert. He turned it over in his hands, aware that the adults were all watching him expectantly. He gently unwrapped it. He could feel the magic thrumming under his fingers. Albus' signature aura was quite unforgettable to him. He shivered unwittingly.

And suddenly, Gellert held a silver hunter case pocket watch in his hands. It had a few dents here and there and upon pressing the hatch at the top it opened to reveal a silver face with revolving planets, indicating where which one was in relation to the other planets. Gellert laughed merrily, surprising all the adults (especially Lily, who knew him to be a fairly serious child). This was wonderful! This pocket watch would allow him to track cosmic movements and cast the appropriate spells for each position. It could make some more complex spells very much more easy to cast. And powerful.

"I enchanted it myself when I was an adolescent and apprentice to Nicolas Flamel. It is very much a unique watch and has various protective qualities. I shall not bore you with them, however. I'll leave it for young Harry to work them out," Albus said happily.

Gellert turned his careful gaze on the wizard. Why in the world was a professor — someone like Dumbledore — so invested in the life of a child?

"Prof— erm, Albus, thank you. This is beautiful!" Lily said, grinning from ear to ear. Albus' gaze, however, had dropped back to Gellert, who had fixed him with a bemused expression.

"Fank you, Albus," Gellert finally said (a lisp due to a lack of teeth making itself known), causing an instant stir as those were both his first proper words and had also been said so casually. Well, who said Dark Lords couldn't enjoy a little bit of drama?

.

The hiding, the lack of social contact with other families… it all made a hell of a lot more sense one October evening. It was Samhain, and Gellert, a self professed pagan and former Dark Lord, knew the value of such a night. He'd been unable to get away from his parents all day to make the proper prayers and fulfil the proper rituals.

And of course, this was the night that a necromancer or Dark Lord was at his most powerful. It made sense, therefore that just as Gellert prepared to draw at least one simple rune with his toddler hands, there came a scream from downstairs.

"LILY! IT'S HIM! TAKE HARRY AND RUN!"

After living a year and a half, Gellert had gathered that there was a new Dark Lord on the rise. One that was often equated to him in terms of power and intelligence. Apparently he hated muggles. And had some sort of vendetta against the Potters. Apparently.

There was a loud explosion downstairs and Gellert felt a wall supporting this floor topple and the floor of his nursery buckled dangerously. His eyes widened in sudden fear. No, no, he couldn't die this quickly! Not after having gone through this year at an agonisingly glacial speed — and not after tolerating the Potters this passively!

Another scream came from the floor below and somehow, Gellert knew that James had just died. Lily ran into the room. Her face was red and tears stained the collar of her shirt.

"Harry, here you are. We have to leave now. Yes — now, please don't make a sound," Lily said in an oddly calm voice as she picked him up.

She'd taken too long, however.

A man had appeared in the doorway. The Dark Lord. He was surprisingly old, but there was something inhumane about him… His ruby eyes flashed from the darkness, giving the night of Samhain a whole new unholy meaning. No, something very wrong was going on with this Dark Lord, Gellert decided.

"Lily Potter, how incredibly disappointing in the flesh," the man snarled, baring his lips. He trained his wand on her.

Lily turned Gellert away from the Dark Lord to quasi-protect him from the line of fire.

"Step aside, girl. I shall spare you, if you give me the boy."

Lily Potter had guts, Gellert decided. She found it in herself to cast a spell at him (he easily deflected it) and was promptly disarmed.

"Foolish girl! _Avada Kedavra_!"

And all Gellert knew after that, was darkness.

.

The Dursleys possessed a certain kind of irony. They were the sort of family that seemed exactly, perfectly normal, but the moment one took a second glance, the cracks in their porcelain masks revealed themselves.

There were three of them: Petunia, Vernon, and their one year old son, Dudley. The wife… well, she wasn't beloved, but at least she somehow, magically seemed to know all the gossip of the neighbourhood. Indeed, this was how she had earned her spot at the Sunday wive's book club. She generally was always to be found with her son, Dudley. A rumbustious one-year old boy with rosy cheeks and a demanding, annoyed look about him.

It was unanimously agreed that Vernon was unpleasant. If one ever crossed paths with him, either at the store or at grill parties, one rapidly found an excuse to wander to the next group of people that one knew. After all, gossip and passive aggressive relationships were the characteristics that defined suburbs.

And then there was the fourth member, often forgotten. Potter, Harry — or was it Harold? Hadrian? Ironically, he seemed the only normal one of the lot. Ironically, of course, because he was the oddest and most special of them all — not that the residents of Privet Drive knew that. He had appeared on a chilly November morning (Mrs. Peters at Number 5 Privet Drive had spotted him on the doorstep upon exiting her house for her morning walk) and had been seemingly adopted by the Dursleys. A 'family relation', as Petunia would say when asked.

And so, as Harry Potter spent his days at Number 4 Privet Drive, rumours and gossip eventually died down. After all, who wanted to chatter about a seemingly completely normal boy? Every now and then, residents of Surrey would make a pitying comment about him — after all, he never seemed to quite join in with the Dursleys on their family outings — but he largely went unnoticed. He was eventually and generally forgotten.

However within the walls of number 4 Privet Drive, Harry was not forgotten. Indeed, he was generally so hated by his aunt and uncle, that he was constantly at the forefront of their minds. The one year old did little else but sleep — it wasn't every day that one survived the killing curse. So when the boy finally opened his brilliant eyes and took in his surroundings with intelligence and cognisance that no one-year old should have, the humiliation began. It wouldn't do, Vernon argued, for his nephew… his _freak_ nephew to be more intelligent or developed than his own son!

Gellert Grindelwald was accustomed to humiliation, beatings even. His father had been unforgiving and hateful. His mother, bless her heart, had been a gentle soul and hadn't ever really had the courage to stand up to him. At least Vernon ' _only'_ verbally abused him.

He wasn't sure what his name was this time around. These muggles (and Merlin, of course they were muggles!) spoke English. They were British, and lived somewhere around the London area. He'd heard Vernon complaining about traffic jams on the way to work.

The woman tended to call him 'freak' whenever she looked at him, so he supposed that must be his name. Or well, knowing her hatred for him, maybe that was a derogatory term of some sort.

It was odd, to suddenly wake up in another body. His last memory was of dying in Albus' arms after a particularly vicious bout of pneumonia.

Ah, in any case. One moment he was staring up into Albus' tearful eyes, the next he was a baby and his forehead was exploding in pain. He'd slept for at least a week and had woken up in this… household.

He wasn't used to being this helpless. His body didn't respond to him very accurately, and it's… ' _smallness'_ was irritating. He couldn't get out of his cot, couldn't walk as well as he wished to, and definitely couldn't make his way around the house. He slept in a small cot next to the boy known as Dudley (or was it Dudders? both names were ridiculous) — a relation of some sort. He was blond and had rosy cheeks. His rotund body gave him a good chance at survival. Although from what he'd seen, the world in which he'd woken up (very futuristic!) had no issues with food. Rather, there was an overabundance of it!

His body also responded to his very base desires. He had issues communicating, not having had much experience with speaking yet. When Gellert was hungry, he screamed. When he felt pain after falling, he cried. When Dudley hit him in his sleep as he was wont to do, he gave instantaneous reactions. This wouldn't do — he'd always been a master occlumens!

His magic was a bit beyond his grasp. He searched it within himself, but it seemed to be playing a game of hide and seek with him. Appearing one second, disappearing the next — it was quite frustrating. But he'd work on it. After all, he still had runes, and those could be charged with a simple touch of a wizard. They took a while to etch into surfaces, however.

A year passed and he grew. He was two (or two and a half) when Petunia, his aunt, gave him a stool to stand on and tend to the rice as it cooked. The future constantly surprised him — a cooking room, in the house?! An electric cooker? How ingenious. He was put to work, but he didn't particularly mind. He wasn't a house-elf, but at least cooking was similar to the art of potion-making and he'd enjoyed that at Durmstrang.

What he wouldn't tolerate much longer would be the verbal humiliation that Vernon bestowed on him. Petunia wasn't innocent either. Her harsh tones, the way she called him 'freak' would've been psychologically damaging to a child. And who knew, any abused child could become an _obscurus_.

These muggles were simple, he decided. Their motivations… were base. Petunia enjoyed gossip and her good standing in the neighbourhood. She enjoyed the comfort of the middle class. Petunia happened to hate magic, because it was unnatural. He wasn't quite sure why, as she wasn't religious. Perhaps she held a personal vendetta towards someone who had _had_ magic.

Vernon… enjoyed power. But he was petty, and not particularly intelligent and did not understand that power could only be attained by hard work and diligence. Even those born into the right families, had to fight to keep that power.

He was four when his plan came to fruition.

Gellert and Petunia were alone in the kitchen. Vernon was at work and Dudley was watching television — another ingenious invention! Oh the propaganda that could be achieved with that thing! He and his _aunt_ were preparing dinner.

As Petunia switched on the gas stove, Gellert faintly touched the tiny rune he'd etched onto the wooden cupboard underneath it. Petunia yelped as a flame exploded around her pans and quickly backed away, looking for the extinguisher. But before she could move too far away, Gellert deftly jumped onto the stool and touched a second rune he'd etched onto the exhaust hood. From within it emerged a waterfall of water, dousing the fire and extinguishing it within seconds.

For a moment the kitchen was silent except for a quiet sizzling from the stove and Petunia's panicked pant.

"Boy — was that you?!"

Gellert slowly moved from the stool back onto the floor. He glanced up at Petunia through his long lashes and gave a 'shy' nod.

"The water," he said, wincing at the accent. As hard as he worked on his pronunciation, he couldn't seem to make English work in his mouth. The German lilt seemed to remain.

"You saved us." Her gaze unwittingly flitted over to the doorway, in the direction of the living room, undoubtedly thinking of her son.

There was a thick, tense silence. Gellert had learned at a young age that there was little else that made people so uncomfortable as silence. Oftentimes the trick to get them to confess secrets or just simply _talk_ was to strategically wait for the awkwardness to become too unbearable for them. Curiously enough, Albus was one of the few immune to this trick. He could sit in silence for hours, sucking on those disgusting lemon sherberts.

"Do you know what you did… Harry?" she asked finally, using his real name. She rarely did, and never in the company of Dudley or Vernon.

"Magic, aunt Petunia," he said quietly, observing her through his fringe. She gave a squeak.

"B-but… how? How do you know? You were too young to remember your parents and, and, well, Vernon and I swore never to tell you!"

How odd, refuse a wizard his birthright? Well, that would not do. Gellert cocked his head to the side in curiosity.

"Why do you hate magic?"

Another thick silence.

"My… sister. Your mother, was a witch," Petunia finally confessed in a small voice. She slowly sank down to her knees so as to be on Gellert's eye-level. "We were very good friends until she found out about her… abilities. She and that Snape boy left to _Hogwarts_ and they _left_ me alone!"

Ah, abandonment issues. Did she also have a difficult relationship with her father, Gellert mused amusedly.

"My parents didn't die in a car crash," Gellert stated eventually. He wondered idly whether Petunia knew the truth of how her sister had died. Technically, he was the only living survivor. He had wondered on occasion why he had been allowed to live, why the Dark Lord, who had been so set on killing _him_ specifically, had let him live, and why he wasn't searching for him _now_.

Petunia shook her head.

"Your parents were both wizards. James and Lily Potter. When you were _abandoned_ here, the headmaster of that school of theirs — Dumbledore — left a letter, saying you'd somehow killed some sort of Dark Lord. And the world would be looking for you, so he wanted you to stay here, where you'd be safest."

Gellert stared at her incredulously. 1. Dumbledore was apparently behind this. Yip-dee-dee-doo. 2. Was this Dark Lord he'd supposedly defeated responsible for the scar on his forehead? 3. How in the world had he been 'safe' in this household? Had no one considered the dangers of leaving a wizard with _magic hating_ muggles?!

Well, he'd store that information away, and decide how to deal with it later.

"Hmm, well aunt Petunia. Mrs. Peters at number 5. quite likes me. She brings me cookies when I play in the garden. Now, you wouldn't want me to turn a pebble into a dog in front of her, would you?"

He spoke conversationally, glancing at the kitchen hood suggestively to remind her of his latest conscious magical feat. Petunia looked suddenly very shocked. Whether this was because of his slightly overdeveloped form of speech or because he had actually spoken more than six words at at time with her, he was uncertain. But his latent legilimency _did_ pick up on her uncertainty and fear. Which certainly was an improvement.

"That would be unfavourable," she finally squeaked out. His little smirk broadened.

"You're certain? I could go out into the yard and tend to your garden, a little magic here, a little there, no one would never notice—" He made to move in the direction of the door.

"Stop!"

Gellert turned slowly, giving her a charming smile. "Of course, if you prohibit it…"

"I do!" she almost shouted. Gellert suppressed a snort. As though a muggle would ever prohibit him from doing anything.

"You would probably then also prohibit me from telling uncle Vernon about this — my, oh my, I could show him some of my tricks! I'm sure he'd enjoy them—"

"Not Vernon!" Her face contorted into that of pain and twin blotches of red appeared on her cheeks.

"Well, excellent!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "We may come to an understanding then, yes? Well, you will give me the second bedroom, allow me to leave when I want, for whatever I want. I shall not cook or clean, only if Dudley receives the same chores. And you will allow me to plant whatever I want in the back garden. For this, you shall receive my magical silence. Our neighbours and dear Vernon shall never have to be any the wiser. This is… _favourable_ to you?"

This was how Gellert found himself in his newly furnished room (not the cupboard thank you very much), staring at his reflection. He'd been handsome in his old life — this one wasn't classically handsome, but he was certain he could pull off an innocent charm, especially in the way he looked now: wild hair, those wide, green eyes, the general softness of his features, knobby knees. Ah yes, he could work with this.

.

Morning found a shouting match between Vernon and Petunia. Gellert poked his head out of his room and was surprised to see Dudley doing the same; a frown marring those rotund features.

"You took my room," Dudley pointed out. Gellert smiled and smoothed down his pyjamas.

"Indeed. Although… you seemed to already have two. Your mother thought it fair for us to have equal space, dear cousin. We're growing boys, after all," he said. Dudley's eyes narrowed as though he were uncertain whether the condescending tone was offensive or not.

"Well they're fighting now… Freak."

There was little malice behind those words. Dudley was five, or six, Gellert had never bothered to find out when his birthday way. A child of that age could only be taught to hate, but without conceptually understanding the reasoning behind the hate, it was easy to sway him.

"Dudley?"

"Hmm?"

"Why am I a freak?"

His cousin blinked owlishly at him, then opened his mouth and closed it several times.

"Erm, you're an orphan."

"That doesn't make me a freak. Would it make you a freak if your parents were dead and you had to live with mine?"

Dudley bit his lip, then decided no, and shook his head. Gellert gave him a toothy smile.

"Daddy says you do freakish things."

"Well have you ever seen me do anything besides brush my teeth, eat, and garden? Those are normal things, no? You've seen Mrs. Peters at number 5. gardening. I'm sure that's normal."

Dudley sighed, then agreed. He disappeared into his room to crawl back into bed until Petunia dragged him out again to dress him for their first day of school.

.

Well, muggle school was stupid.

The teacher stood at the front and lectured to them in about 15 minute periods, eventually releasing them into the playground every hour or so. She spoke to them in baby-tones. Gellert caught himself zoning out most of the time, planning on how to get to Vernon. Or at least get him to respect him at least a little. It would make his future much much easier if his guardian wasn't such a pain in the ass.

He and Dudley were getting picked up by Vernon today, as Petunia had some sort of cooking meet-up with a few friends (she had friends?). So it happened, that they were let out of school (well, pushed out — Vernon was late) and had to cross the playground. Another car was waiting, at the gate. A man stood in front of it, perusing a newspaper as he waited for his son. Vernon, Gellert noticed suddenly, was staring at him with a hungry expression.

Curious, indeed.

"Ah, what a big man you're becoming!" Vernon exclaimed as Dudley neared him. Gellert's cousin grinned at his father and pecked him on the cheek. Vernon, however, was still stealing glances at the other father who was greeting his own son warmly.

"Where's mum?" Dudley's innocence and lack of perception were dumfounding. Ah well, he was six — or was he five? Gellert couldn't find it in him to care.

"Say Dudders, what's that boys name?" Vernon asked peering at his review mirror.

Dudley looked up from where he was clumsily fastening his seatbelt. Gellert did the same, although for once in his life he was actually becoming curious as to where this conversation was going.

"Francis? Carmichael? Why, daddy?"

.

It took Gellert a few weeks to figure out, but it eventually made sense. Carmichael was the head of some muggle drilling brand with which Vernon desperately wanted a partnership. Several overheard conversations later, and Gellert also found out that this partnership (merger?) would give Vernon a significant pay rise and perhaps even a promotion.

So it took him all of two weeks to ingratiate himself with Sam Carmichael's son, a one Francis Carmichael. And very soon afterwards, Gellert was invited to a birthday party at their house where he convinced Vernon to come along with him. A few months later, a partnership was announced in the news.

His life at the Dursleys improved significantly after that.

.

"Mrs. Dursley, are you sure that Harry is getting the attention he needs at home?" Miss Holland asked, eyes narrowing a little. She'd seen that Harry tended to show up to school in slightly threadbare clothing, although he seemed to always make sure that his shirt was tucked in, his hair brushed. He was by far the most careful of his appearance in his entire class.

Petunia pursed her lips.

"He's introverted and keeps to himself," she said in a tight tone. Well, that was factually true. The boy was a menace, really. He'd manipulated her into getting his way. It irritated her to no end.

"Well he might benefit from some help with homework, maybe some encouragement."

"Help with homework? The F—Harry reads perfectly well alone," Petunia rebutted. The teacher looked unhappy.

"It's not about what he can do or not do, with all respect, Mrs. Dursley. He's very charming and he's got most of the teachers and students wrapped around his finger. Very intelligent… He just lacks motivation. Never listens in class, and almost never does the work, although I _know_ he can. You don't _have_ to read to him, just spend some time together."

Petunia tried not to show her irritation. What did she care how the boy did in school? Come his eleventh birthday he'd be carted off to Hogwarts anyway and then she'd only have to tolerate him for the summers. She was glad of it. He unnerved her with his speculative glances and comprehending expressions. He spoke too elaborately and carefully, and definitely not like boy his age. And there was that weird accent.

There were also manipulations: when she and Vernon talked at the table, he never seemed particularly interested and tended to banter back and forth with Dudley, and yet, more often than not, he'd somehow manage to use whatever information had been exchanged for his benefit.

"Dudley on the other hand, could benefit with less mothering," Miss Holland continued, wincing slightly as she spoke. Petunia's expression grew thunderous. How dare she!

"Mrs. Dursley — please — I'm just saying that maybe you could show Harry a little bit more attention. And maybe, you could get Harry and Dudley to do more things together. Become friends as well as be just cousins. I think it would really benefit them both. The way it is now, I might have to hold them both back a year. Dudley for his bullying and lack of understanding and Harry for his… lack of work."

So with this wake-up call, Petunia made her way to the playground to pick up her son and nephew. They were bickering, as usual.

.

Gellert had found the library! That was the positive. The negative — it was filled with mostly fiction books. This being an elementary school, it had no academic library, rather just one that had books explaining simply concepts to simple children. Then again, at least he'd found a book in German, so that was a plus.

"Oh hello Harry!"

Gellert had just passed into the next isle when a familiar voice called out to him. His very first teacher at this school. He was ten now, year six, and had a hag for a teacher who didn't let him daydream. At least Miss Holland — the woman who had just called to him — had let him zone out as much as he'd wanted.

"Good afternoon, Miss Holland," he said politely. She smiled and glanced down at the book he held in his hand.

"Oh, I didn't know you were interested in learning German!" she spoke as excitedly as ever. Then again, she was a primary school teacher. "My father was German. If you want we could sit down and go through some words?"

Gellert gave her a tight smile.

"Thank you, Miss. I'm quite capable."

She deflated a little. "Well, _Unterm Rad_ is quite a serious book and the ending is a bit heavy. My door is open to you anytime, if you wish to speak about it when you're finished…"

He gave her a terse nod and made to move on, but she stopped him. He flinched.

"Harry… I know I'm not your teacher anymore, but I still feel responsible. How are things at home? Do the Dursleys treat you right? Your cousin?"

"The Dursleys are great, Miss Holland. They were very kind to take me in." With a withering glance, he left.

.

When he'd blackmailed Petunia into treating him better, he'd also slipped in the condition to plant whatever he wished in the back yard. He'd spent the last five years nurturing his plants and although he'd hated herbology at school, he recognised that some of it was important if one wanted to be proficient at potion-making in any shape or form.

There was this odd cat that sat in a tree overlooking the back garden that watched him every now and then. He couldn't be sure, but its gaze was almost too human. He stopped using magic to tend to his plants whenever it was around. It paid to be careful. He knew, after all, that Britain's laws on the practice of magic for underage wizards were much stricter. Although there probably was some leeway for accidental magic.

Although his core grew and he expanded it by doing the odd charm here or there (really, nothing more than a levitation or an unlocking charm), he was really only able to use runes. But those he reserved for more powerful projects. He did have to intimidate Petunia every half a year or so, after all, so that she didn't forget his blackmail.

_But_ every now and then, he could transform a pebble into something else, or graze the first layer of a muggle's mind to gain a basic understanding of their emotions or general disposition. His legilimency skills were slowly but steadily improving, as did his core, which he was glad to find, was the same magic he'd always had in his past life, simply in the shape and form that a child's body could take. He'd grow with it.

Most of the potions ingredients he'd managed to plant had been stolen from neighbours' gardens or Mrs. Figgs (oh Merlin, that squib) small garden. There was a limitation to the amount of potions he could make, especially from memory, but he had managed to replicate a passable nutritional concoction and one to sharpen his mind.

There had been an end-goal to all of this, however. And of course, it was to finally be able to cast the Samhain ritual.

It was Halloween 1990. He'd spent all of last week recounting to Dudley how wonderful muggle Halloween traditions were (they weren't) and convincing him that going trick or treating was the epitome of celebrations (it wasn't) thereby creating in him the desire to do that abominable activity, dragging along his parents and leaving the house free for Gellert.

So he'd cleared out the back garden, throwing all toys and turds aside (Merlin damn that horrible dog that Vernon's sister insisted on bringing along) before cleaning it throughly. He spent most of the afternoon drawing chalk runes on the patio area. Seven runes placed in a circle and connected in a sort of star. At each circular rune, he placed a candle.

Then sitting down in the centre of this design, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes.

He cleared his mind, and when he felt confident his magic was bubbling close to the surface, he intoned:

" _O spioradan an t-saoghail dhorcha, cluinn mi, guidheam orm, freagair mi._ " He spoke quietly, but his bubbling magic answered easily, infusing each word with power. He felt something stir in him.

"Tha mi a 'gairm ort na spioradan a dhùsgadh annam."

A candle went out, but his magic had woken in him enough that he was able to reignite a small spark.

"Thig còmhla rium draoidheachd agus luchd-gràidh airson an aon oidhche seo de samhain,"he finished.

Three simple phrases in Scottish Gaelic, and _magic_ happened. Gleefully, Gellert breathed in as the air around him, as though in a sort of protective magical dome, was infused with the essence of Samhain. In him, he felt the channels of magic widening and becoming sensitive to the ley lines that traversed underneath him, in the earth.

Traditionally many dark wizards had used this ritual to speak to dead loved ones, the less powerful, to simply feel a connection to them. He'd never felt this as he'd never truly had loved ones, and yet, he'd done the ritual every year, if only to feel the richness of magic coursing through him. It invigorated him, and oftentimes improved the flow of his magic for few months. It wasn't a coincidence that a lot of Dark Lords went into battle shortly after Halloween.

So it was a surprise to him, when almost half an hour later, as magical layer upon layer settled upon each other, building to a climax, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Harry… my Harry…"

His eyes fluttered open and was suddenly confronted by the ghostly image of Lily Potter floating in front of him. She was staring at him with the saddest smile. Then one of those ghostly hands reached out and touched his cheek, sending a shiver of warmth down his spine.

"How you've grown, my Harry."

"Lily," he managed to force out. His voice sounded hoarse.

"My human sacrifice protected you that night, use this shield well. The Dark Lord roams the Spirit world with one foot in it, another in yours. He is angry. There are whispers about him gaining power. Beware… Gellert."

She gave him another sad smile. She seemed at peace. Gellert rushed to speak, but she disappeared only to be suddenly replaced by another beautiful woman. She was a few years younger than Lily and too had beautiful red hair. Her electrifying eyes were soft and trusting. Yet troubled.

"You're kinder in this incarnation, Gellert," Ariana Dumbledore spoke softly. Gellert's jaw slackened slightly in surprise. What the hell was Ariana doing here? How was she even family?

"You feel guilt for what you have done and you have repented in Nurmengard. Do not loose this… illumination."

She disappeared as quickly as she had come, only to be replaced by a third ghostly figure, this one less opaque than the two previous ones. His mother from his previous life. She'd never come to his Samhain rituals in the past.

"Mother," he whispered. He was shocked to find his eyes tearing up. "You came."

"Oh, Gellert. _You_ have changed. You seek power, but not complete subservience. I have come because you are _better_ , my dear boy." She smiled, but it was weak and Gellert found that he could barely see her features properly.

"The spirits have unanimously given you a second chance to do better. I plead you not to abuse this power that you have been gifted with. I am weak and I am fading, so I must be quick. The spirits have chosen to pass along this message:

The balance is uprooted. Death has been avoided, and you have been chosen to right the equilibrium. A dead man walks, when he shouldn't."

It was vague, but Gellert committed the sentences to memory. He'd analyse that later.

"Thank you for warning me." For once he was earnest. "Is father with you?"

His mother chuckled. "Worry not, his conscience is ripping him to shreds for his sins."

Vague. Again. Well, at least he knew he'd enjoy the hell out of being inaccurate when he became a spirit after he died.

"There is one more waiting to speak to you — Harry, yes come on!"

She disappeared and after a few seconds, a little boy stumbled into the circle. Harry Potter. He was around Gellert's current age and looked severely thin. He was small, far shorter than Gellert was. His eyes were haunted and his head was bowed. Gellert almost sneered at such weakness, but stopped himself in time.

"No, no, it's okay, Gellie," the boy said in a small voice. "I know I'm weak. The spirits wanted to show you who Harry Potter would've become if the Dursley's had taken care of him. Without you, of course."

Gellert observed the boy. He looked so helpless. So close to death.

"Mum and Dad say there's something leeching off of your soul. I would've been overwhelmed by it. It would've - erm - possessed me."

"Something leeching off of my soul?" Gellert blinked. "Like someone? A person?"

The spirit of Harry glanced away and he seemed to perk up. Gellert realised that he seemed to be listening to someone else who Gellert couldn't hear.

"I have to go. May I visit you next Samhain?" the boy shifted on his feet, looking shyly at the ground again. Gellert's heart softened. Minutely.

"Yes, of course—" But the boy was gone.

Gellert's eyes shut almost unwittingly. Most people when doing a ritual such as this got only a faint impression or a soft murmur. Full conversations, even brief ones, were rare and necessitated a lot of energy. Despite this, he could feel his magic thrumming at his fingertips.

The climax of the ritual had been fulfilled in the form of the spirits and now, as Gellert's heartbeat slowly returned to normal, and then sun completely disappeared behind the horizon, he slumped forwards, exhausted. As the candles blew out, he made sure to toss them in the trash destined for the morning garbage collector. He took a moment to wash off the chalk with the garden hose, and then went to bed. In sleep, he was plagued by memories of all those who he had killed in the name of the Greater Good.

.

In the month following the ritual, Gellert's magic was significantly more potent and for lack of a better word 'free'. He could cast some of the more simple spells with a little concentration, and had an easier time entering people's defenceless minds.

He also curiously began to register the wards surrounding this property. He'd never studied wards in great depth but he knew perhaps a little more than the average wizard. It took him a few days of looking, but eventually he found several wards tied to a single rune etched into the northern wooden facade of the Durselys's house. He instantly read Albus' magical signature and curiously enough… his mother's.

A few wards were simple: charms to deflect mail addressed to him (why, he couldn't fathom), charms to deflect muggles from looking too closely, and so on. Most interesting was the blood ward. Blood ward only in name. But the suggested sacrifice had been done in the name of Lily Potter and her line. It would protect anyone in this household from basic ill-will, so long as he, her son, stayed there and recognised this place as home.

What was so interesting was that Gellert distinctly remembered his family being attacked on Samhain and his mother… yes, she had technically died for him. And it was curious therefore that someone — well, Albus, obviously — had brought him here and had cast this blood ward to protect him and the Dursleys from harm, using the human sacrifice of his mother, and the convenience of Samhain's magic to power it. Well, Albus had certainly gotten interesting with age.

It was unfortunate however that his own increase in magical use had alerted someone at the Ministry.

One afternoon in early December, Gellert sat under the single tree in the front yard of the property, leaning against it and shielding his project from view with his back. It wasn't foolproof, but nobody really went out in this snowy weather.

His project? Well, he thought it was ingenious. Stashed between various little soldier and knight figurines, in a forgotten box, he had found the pocket watch that Albus had given him on his first birthday. And upon discovering the blood ward rune attached to the Dursleys's house, he'd decided to somehow transfer that into the pocket watch. If he could carry that around, it would work like a protective shield of sorts. What he lacked, was ward knowledge. And that was frustrating him.

After a while, he gave up on unraveling that, deciding to do more research when he figured out how to get to… Diagon Alley? Or at least, to get to wizarding London. This he couldn't do until his Hogwarts letter came and he found out the relevant information. Not for the first, nor last, time, he went through a mental list of all his former loyal followers in the British Isles. Most were likely dead or imprisoned. Shame, that.

So it was on this early December morning that he heard two distinct cracks of apparition. He was surprised to see two people heading towards privet drive number 4. Mrs. Peters' (number 5) kitchen curtains parted and he caught sight of her peeking at the two gentlemen. The younger one, in ministry robes cast a discreet spell and instantly Mrs. Peter's face disappeared. Muggle repelling charm.

The older gentleman was dressed as crazily possible. His long beard was tucked into his belt, and on his head he wore an absurd, bright hat. Merlin, what in the world was Albus Dumbledore doing here.

"Merlin, you must be Harry Potter!" said the one in ministry robes as they caught sight of him. Gellert frowned at him, and turned his gaze on Albus who was peering at him curiously. Well, Albus had certainly aged a lot in ten years.

The young man blushed at his reaction and assumed a more professional expression.

"Hello, I'm Roger Davies from the Improper Use of Magic Office. This man bares no introduction — of course, you know him. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, of course, of Hogwarts."

Gellert continued to stare at them.

"It's a pleasure, young man," Albus finally said, eyes twinkling. Gellert had always wondered why his eyes did that.

"How may I help you?" Gellert asked carefully. He'd gotten rid of his German accent a while ago, but it had a tendency to slip in every now and then.

Davies winced. "Erm, we've — at the office, yes — detected an increase in magic use at number 4 Privet Drive. It is our understanding that only one underage wizard lives here. And of course… accidental magic happens, well, accidentally. But we at the office have to reapply some extra muggle repelling charms every so often if our wizard is a little too active — magically of course. Ah, but I must be talking with your guardian though — you know, to sign some legal papers and such, before we apply the new wards and charms, that is."

Gellert cocked his head to the side, observing them both. Petunia would be pissed when she found out that the wizards were tracking Gellert's movements. Perhaps he'd loose some of the threat's levity simply because she would know that he couldn't do anything too extreme… and yet, maybe he would be able to suggest that the 'freaks' would know if he was mistreated. Yes, there were ways to use this to his advantage. There always was.

"My aunt is inside," he said curtly and turned away from Davies, hoping to god that Albus would follow him inside. Surprise, surprise, he didn't.

Davies happily entered the warmth of the house, while the headmaster slowly approached Gellert, like one would approach a hurt animal.

"Hello Harry! Very chilly here in Surrey, I must ask, are you not cold?"

What an inane question.

Then again, Gellert glanced down at himself. He was dressed in a thin pullover and canvas trousers. The wonder that was magic was warming him. Charms were a thing, he almost wanted to tell Dumbledore.

"I didn't bother with a jacket when I can use magic to warm myself," he said, almost perhaps a little too smugly. Albus looked surprised, then a small smile broke out on his thin lips and he chuckled.

"Then I suppose that all that 'accidental magic' that the ministry's been detecting isn't as accidental as they've been led to believe."

Gellert smirked noncommittally.

"May I join you?" Albus said airily. Gellert arched an eyebrow but then jutted his chin at the other slightly drier spot next to him. The man sat down swiftly with a sort of agility that was not quite congruent with his age.

"Harry, what other magical feats have you been able to perform?"

Gellert glanced at him but found that the man's gaze had fallen on the pocket watch clutched in his hands. Ah, he was probably reminiscing about Gellert's childhood and his first birthday. Well, there was no reason for the man to find out more than he already knew about Gellert.

"I can make myself invisible," Gellert finally said, deciding to feed Albus the information he already knew. "I can levitate objects."

Albus nodded. "Impressive. We have spells for those two things. Allow me—"

He pulled out his wand and Gellert was unwittingly, instantly, drawn to it. The Elder Wand! He'd known Albus had kept it, but he'd only thought he'd brought it along to visit him at Nurmengard for the added protection. It seemed that Albus _had_ succumbed at least a little to that demonic ambition for power that he possessed. This thought pleased him for some reason. Maybe it was because Albus liked to seem so infallible.

" _Wengardium leviosa_!" he intoned, almost too clearly. The pocket watch wriggled in Gellert's hand before breaking loose and jumping up to eye-level. Gellert reached out and grabbed it with his other hand.

"Is that what I'd learn at Hogwarts? Levitate things?"

Albus chuckled. And Gellert suddenly remembered how many boastful conversations they'd had, each positing that their school was superior.

"Oh yes, and much more! There are transfigurations — ah, the art of transforming one object into another, charms, defensive spells, herbology! Oh, the world is so rich!"

Gellert arched an eyebrow. However, he could sense that the conversation was going nowhere. Albus was waiting for their eyes to meet so that he could use legilimency, and Gellert was much too distracted by the Elder Wand to manoeuvre around Albus' double-meanings. Indeed, the wand was tangibly, mockingly, caressing his magic. He could sense its loyalty to Albus, but the wand recognised him, and seemed to at least in part, sympathise with him.

Curious indeed.

"Your parents were good friends of mine. You wouldn't remember, but I was invited to your first birthday party — I gave you that pocket watch. See here, those are my initials engraved in it."

Gellert looked closely and yes, truly, Albus' insanely long initials were engraved into the inner face of the watch.

"Oh I never leave it out of my sight," Gellert said, caressing the watch with his thumb. He had a sudden spark of inspiration and in an instant changed his demeanour.

"Professor, my aunt doesn't fully approve of magic. She's not unpleasant, but I am not treated particularly well. She's done me the courtesy of telling me about my inheritance and my heritage as a wizard and yet, she seems to have forgotten how to get to Diagon Alley…" Gellert trailed off, looking dejectedly at his shoes and made a point to finger a tiny hole in one of them. That would certainly tug at Albus' heart.

And indeed it did. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"My boy, of course. I will owl her the directions tomorrow, yes? Although, you must promise me never to venture there alone. Some areas of Diagon Alley, for all their wonders, remain dangerous places. Now, Harry. Why don't you run along inside. I would like to examine, ah, an old work of mine."

As Gellert did as he was told, he noticed Dumbledore rushing over to the blood ward rune that he'd spent the last couple of weeks examining. Well, at least Gellert hadn't managed to transfer it into the pocket watch yet… that would've raised a few extra eyebrows much too early. He smirked, at least he could finally see hope on the horizon — the wizarding world!

.

"Boy," aunt Petunia hissed the moment the two wizards had departed. Gellert had luxuriously sprawled himself on Vernon's armchair in the living room, distractedly watching the news as the two wizards conversed with his 'aunt' on the topic of upgrading the wards.

Petunia appeared in the archway separating the kitchen from the living room, looking livid. Her hands were on her hips. Well, that wasn't a good sign.

"You have been threatening me for _years_. And now, I find out your _magic_ is illegal? The _freaks_ apparently… allow it… while you're not a student at one of their schools. But all the things you've threatened to do… you can't do them at all! Empty threats!" Her tone rose as she spoke. Gellert inclined his head in agreement and righted himself on the armchair.

"Why don't you sit down and keep me some company, aunt Petunia?" He reached out and patted the settee next to the armchair.

Petunia took a moment to react, then angrily sat down. Her frown suddenly turned into a vindictive grin.

"You're going back into the cupboard, _freak_ ," she practically snarled. Gellert sighed. And he'd thought she'd mellowed and had accepted the inevitability of him.

"No, aunt Petunia," he said oh so earnestly. "You see, they are right. Those wards they set up will inform the office of improper use of magic anytime magic is used here — which by the way, I can legally 'accidentally' do until, indeed, I buy my wand. You forget however, how important I am to them. Did you think they aren't observing the house? Did you think professor Dumbledore and I didn't speak about my treatment here?"

For a moment, Petunia's resolve seemed to crumble a little.

"You're nobody. Your parents were nobodies…"

Gellert gave a small smirk.

"Do you truly think that if I were a nobody that the _head_ of the office for improper use of magic and the _headmaster_ of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry would've come to see the situation for themselves?"

Petunia swallowed nervously. Gellert noticed her hands had begun to sweat.

"No no, Petunia. They are _very_ interested in my well-being. You be a dear and… forget to tell Vernon about this. After all, the Carmichaels truly dote on me and if I were to… suggest to them that I was being mistreated in this household, then perhaps, uncle Vernon, might just loose that agreement he was waiting for?"

She gave a terse nod, but stood up angrily, ready to leave. "Lily would've been disgusted," she said.

Gellert raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "You forget that my mother _literally_ died for me — I assume professor Dumbledore explained the blood ward to you. Maybe she would've been disappointed in me, but she would've hated you for what you have done to me, or alternatively, what you would've done."

Petunia gave him a withering glare and disappeared into the kitchen. Gellert would later hear her sniffling and would feel some guilt. A minuscule bit of guilt.

.

Later, Albus would be having dinner in the Great Hall and would be shaking his head in bewilderment at the fascinating character that was Harry Potter. Ah yes, he'd also better start looking for the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… they all seemed to disappear or flee within a year. As he skewered a piece of his steak Albus found himself looking forwards to next September — that was, because of Harry of course, not the next DADA professor.

* * *

Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 2

_There were one or two comments saying that Gellert should be more educated in wards and at least be an academic equal to Dumbledore. I'd argue that yes, whilst he knows quite a lot, not having a wand is a handicap. He's proficient in runes, which in my canon are a fundamental part of warding,_ however, _I want to point out that even in canon the blood protection that Dumbledore spoke about was obscure enough that no wizard in the course of like 13 years found Harry's home. Once he has a wand, of course he'll be more powerful. For now, his wandless magic is rather limited._

_Short chapter, but only because I cut down chapter 2 into two parts. It was originally around the 11k mark and I thought that was a little too much. Especially with how dense it became._

_I think I mentioned this before, but you can actually go to my ffnet account and read the other two chapters there. I've been neglecting posting here :/ sorry. Uni calls._

Rebirth of a Dark Lord.

Chapter 2

Updates: Saturdays.

Summary: Gellert Grindelwald dies in Nurmengard and welcomes Death with open arms, making his rebirth in one Harry James Potter all the more irritating

Warnings: maybe a tiny bit of gore in the future, swearing.

* * *

True to his word, Albus sent an owl the next morning, which Gellert easily intercepted before Petunia could catch sight of it. He grinned as he read the instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley. He decided to wait for the first day of winter break.

And so, as his classmates spent the last few days before holidays started making holiday cards for their families, he spent them plotting which books he _definitely_ had to get, and in which order he'd go about exploring magical London. After all, he had about half a year before his Hogwarts letter came and he would have to keep busy for that time.

The first day of winter break arrived and Gellert donned his warmest clothes (he would really have to get a cloak as soon as possible!) and grabbed Albus' letter which had informed him that he also had a vault in Gringotts Bank. That would certainly simplify things.

So he headed off, taking a train to London and then the tube. But eventually he stood in front of he invisible pub — well, at least to the muggles that passed it without seeing.

Gellert approached it with slight trepidation. He could feel waves of magic already colliding against him and a small smile stretched across his lips. Oh, his return to the magical world, the one that was rightfully his to live in… he had dreamt of this many-a-night.

Crossing the threshhold, he was confronted with the familiar smell of tobacco and Yorkshire pot-pies. He wove through the crowd that had assembled in the small, warm inn and sought out the proper entrance to the wizarding world. He'd only entered Diagon Alley once through this portal and remembered some sort of brick wall.

Fortune favours the bold, he decided, because the next moment, a young man said his goodbyes to the group he'd been meeting with and made his way to a back room. Ah! There — the brick wall!

"Going to Diagon Alley, too?"

Gellert gave a nod and an angelic smile.

"Well, memorise this sequence well. I don't think I've seen you at Hogwarts…"

"Oh, I'm not at Hogwarts yet. I'm turning eleven in July, you see."

"Oh! My brother Ron, he's ten too! You'll probably be in first year together, come September."

The young man with flaming hair tapped out a sequence of bricks and within seconds, they had rearranged themselves into an archway. He gave Gellert a toothy grin.

"So where're you headed?" His tone was light and his smile was easy-going, but there was a subtle hint of concerned interest. Gellert gave his own pleasant smile.

"My parents are waiting for me at Gringotts," he said, knowing absolutely nothing about what the store actually was. He'd only just spied the massive sign above the door of a building n the other side of the Alley.

The young man clasped his hands together. "Great! I've got a job interview there, how 'bout I bring you to your parents. Easy to get lost in the Alley, right?"

Gellert sighed, but agreed. Well, that had backfired on him. Diagon Alley was different from what he remembered. He'd been here, injured and bleeding, at the hight of the war, to get to some medical professional in Knockturn Alley, as an official hospital was out of the question. Back then, the Alley had been dreary. Dark and gloomy and lacking of people. The current image was contrasting. People were chattering away in lively tones, music blared from every corner as children sang Christmas Carols.

"So what job are you applying to?" Gellert asked eventually, seeing that the boy was still staring at him interestedly, awaiting a reply.

"Oh! Well, I just graduated in July, you see. By brother, Charlie and I, we went to Romania to see some real dragons and I was really inspired by the innovative wards and curses they use there, y'know, to control the dragons and all. So I saw that the goblins are looking for someone adept to curse breaking and warding and I thought, well, 'why not'?"

Gellert gazed at him with new interest. A warder was precisely what he needed to transfer the blood rune from the house to his pocketwatch. It would be curious where this boy would go, academically and professionally. Perhaps he would be able to influence him…

"That's cool." The modern 'lingo' tasted uncomfortable in his mouth, and yet this man looked like someone who appreciated that. "Wards really interest me. We have several around our home."

The red-head tilted his head to the side and laughed lightly. "Yeah, well unfortunately you'll only be able to take warding as a subject in seventh year."

"Right." Gellert paused for a second, trying to think about how he could direct the conversation into the topic he actually wanted to discuss. "So in your job you'll be warding…"

The young man frowned bemusedly. "Well, Gringotts. You said you were going there, right? Well, vaults, obviously. The enchantments have to be renewed every now and then, as well as curses reversed or engineered. Ha! But careful, don't jinx the job, haven't gotten it."

Gellert bit his lip. Of course Gringotts was a bank! Well, he'd been headed there. Along with his letter, Albus had also sent him (or rather, Petunia) a key to a vault. He was eager to get some coins in his pocket. Then he could finally begin to check various things off of his list. First on it, was connect by floo to his flat in Königsberg.

"I'm curious, does a ward limited to a vault differentiate from one on a house?" Gellert asked, attempting to weave the narrative of the conversation. He'd get the information he needed, eventually. The young man would forget his age if properly intellectually stimulated.

Indeed, the redhead cocked his head to the side and looked away in thought for a moment. "Well no. Technically, I suppose it's the same spell. Same cluster of runes, but they probably have to be arranged in a different order and powered differently to achieve different dimensions. I mean, a house would include the grounds, different floors. And then some rooms, like a library, would probably need some extra wards."

Gellert made a humming sound. He was impressed though.

"And an animate object?"

"What, a person? 'Ward' a person?" The young man looked into the distance again, musing the thought.

"Well, if one can ward a house, or a vault, one could just as well ward the area around a person. A sort of floating, invisible cloud."

The redhead grinned. "I think the Romanians do magical tattoos kind of like that. Mum would kill me though. I think I'd just ward an object that I'd wear instead."

"Like a pocket watch?" Gellert asked eagerly. "Or a necklace? You could transfer a house ward, onto such an object and carry it around."

"Hey, I like the way you think, kid!" He laughed then leaned down conspiratively. "I've wanted an earring for a while. If I get this job, I'll move out, and mum won't have a say in what I do. Maybe I'll do just that: a ward on an earring. Well, that's just fanciful!"

Gellert sighed. He'd been close. If he pressed now, it would seem odder than it was. For now, the redhead probably just thought he was an over-eager, academically oriented boy. He didn't want to give away more information than was strictly needed.

"So — Gringotts." The young man gestured at the building wildly. They passed through the doors and Gellert quickly spotted a couple on the other side, old enough to have a child his age. He jutted his chin at them.

"Those your parents? Good. I'll go see if they'll take me to that interview. Er — I'm Bill Weasley by the way." They shook hands.

"Harry Potter," he offered, before turning and sauntering in the direction of the couple. He completely missed the shocked expression that crossed Bill's face.

When a few moments had passed and he'd passed through a large gaggle of kids, Gellert slipped to a side isle where a bunch of lined up tellers sat. He rushed up to the closest one.

.

Money withdrawn, Gellert emerged into Diagon Alley both a richer and happier man. Now that he had _some_ capital, he could afford to buy some of the things he needed. After all, number one task on his list was to get away from the Dursleys — with the blood ward intact.

The goblins had been somewhat difficult to manoeuvre around, but when _was_ it easy? Eventually he'd bribed them. Nothing, not politeness, nor Gobbledegook, nor flattery worked as well as offering a Goblin some money in exchange for a service. The service, of course, had been to ignore that he was not only a minor, but also under eleven and as such should not have been able to touch his Hogwarts trust fund — without his legal guardian. A few hundred galleons had righted that 'misunderstanding'.

His first order of business was connecting the Dursleys fireplace to the general floo system, although it was quickly made clear to him that it was illegal for muggle homes to highjack the network. So he turned into Knockturn Alley and found someone who would do it for him illegally. Curiously, in the dark Alley, no one cared about his age. He was just another wizard to be exploited.

In the bookstore he bought a small selection of books on modern history and on runes and wards (which he would dearly need). As for a wand, there was no way he would buy one in England, especially one from Ollivander who'd report back to Albus. The less Albus knew, the better he'd sleep, Gellert had decided. No, he'd get his wand in Königsberg, one continental Europe's largest magical communities. He just hoped to god that Gregorovitch was still alive.

Besides, his private apartment in Königsberg was a far cosier place to live than with the Dursleys. He'd probably have to keep up appearances and continue living with them, going to school and such — after all, he truly was under no delusions that Dumbledore wasn't watching him at all. And yet, once he had access to his apartment via the floo network, he'd be able to spend his afternoons rereading his extensive library. The added bonus, of course, that he'd be in Prussia.

His business done in Diagon Alley (which as it turned out was rather uninteresting), Gellert made his way back to Privet Drive — this time using the Knight Bus as he finally had money.

Sleep came easily that night.

.

A few weeks later, a man arrived to connect the Dursleys' fireplace to the floo network. Gellert had decided to skip school that day. So as the man worked, Gellert stood by him, watching every movement, every flick of his wand, with wonder, whilst aunt Petunia stood in the doorway, the most disgusted expression on her face.

"There you go. That was the last spell. Yer first few trips might, er, send you to a different country if you're not careful with yer pronunciation. If yeh got any problems, owl us. Apollonia'll come over. She's technically the expert," he said wincing as he scratched the back of his head. Gellert smiled pleasantly.

"No issue. Your work is greatly appreciated." He passed the man a moleskin pouch with a few hundred galleons. "That ought to cover it."

His eyes widened and he grinned. "Oh yes, definitely. Now, erm, I said I wouldn't ask names. Most of the businesses in Knockturn Alley don't. But, uh, are you, by chance Harry Potter?"

Gellert's frown grew and Petunia blinked a few times. Her expression became inquisitive.

"Excuse me?" he said icily. The man's face paled. Gellert took a moment to reign in his anger and straightened himself. "Why would this be any concern to you?"

"Uh, well, sorry. I'd be careful if I were you, going to Knockturn in the future. People wouldn't take too well too seeing the Boy-Who-Lived in the Alley."

Gellert's eyes narrowed. It seemed he'd have to stop avoiding the history book he'd bought and actually read the damn thing. Oh Merlin, he was famous. Well, that would explain a lot.

"I hope our contract covered anonymity?" Gellert asked, very aware suddenly that his voice sounded all too youthful. Gods, he hated this young body. The man flushed angrily.

"Of course. We don't talk — not even to the Ministry! Look, do you mind if I take your floo home?"

Gellert sighed and then made an affirmative gesture. The man grabbed his tools (and wand) threw a handful of floo powder in the lit fireplace (which had been lit for the first time in Gellert's life) and with a command promptly disappeared.

"Well, aunt Petunia," Gellert said with a grin, his entire mood changing within seconds as the prospects of the day increased exponentially now that he had a floo. "Goodbye. I shall see you in a few days."

He grabbed some floo powder and called, "Wald der Grindels," along with the password, and he was whisked away. (* _Forest of the grindels_ )

.

He came out into a dusty flat in the centre of Königsberg, that is, magical Königsberg. Today it was known as 'Kaliningrad' and belonged to Russia. The magical and muggle Britains deviated somewhere in the Middle-Ages, when that abominable secrecy act had been passed. Prussia, however, as a predominantly magical nation had remained united until the early 19th century. With Napoleon's defeat, Prussia had stolen away more land, arguing that their involvement in the muggle war had to be repaid with wizarding territories. However, the muggle revolution in 1918 had symbolised the last straw and the wizarding world had withdrawn, completely erasing all memory that it had existed in the minds of the muggles.

The junkers and junkfrauen (the Germanic nobility) had split away from their affairs in the muggle world, and continued to rule. As such a wizarding Prussia continued to exist, parallel now to the modern Republic of Germany. Wilhelm III now reigned over the small country.

Grindelwald, the family, had been part of the ' _verarmter_ Adel' — the impoverished nobility — that had lost most of its wealth and power sometime during the 18th and 19th centuries. His father had eventually stopped using the title (junker Georg von Grindelwald) as he had always argued that a noble without land or money had cause to be ashamed of himself and would only be of ridicule if caught doing a 'lowly' job with such a name and title as his. So, Gellert had been simply born as 'Gellert Grindelwald'.

However, the single thing of considerable value that the family kept (ah, yes, off the books, lest the bank seize it), was the family apartment, situated in the very centre of Königsberg. The beautiful baroque halls and decor had always given people who visited the impression that the Grindelwalds were still very well off. Which was not the case: Georg, Gellert's father had been forced to cast warming charms every morning, unable to pay a proper wardmaster to cast the proper spells. Their house-elves had all died one after another, unable to feed themselves after they'd spent all the family money on food to feed Gellert's family.

The apartment was part of a residential area in the magical capital of Königsberg. While intimidating from the outside it was in disrepair on the inside. Floorboards popped up when one stepped on them and the mosaic tiles in the drawing room were so loose that just by walking through it, Gellert had already broken a few. Accumulated moisture dripped down from the ceiling.

It was home, though. As much as he had hated this place growing up, the library remained a beautiful and rich room, full of hidden knowledge. It wasn't just for the books that he'd come, though.

With a grin, Gellert slowly made his way to the study. It had once been a place of intense fear for him. His father had only ever called him in to give him a whipping. So the day that his father had died and Gellert's mother had buried him, he'd instantly claimed the study for his own. It was located in the library behind one of the bookshelves. One simply had to tap out a sequence on the backs of the books and—

The door opened, giving Gellert access.

Again, a small smile stretched his lips as he wandered in.

The study looked very much like it had when he had left it, save for the cold and general dampness, it hadn't changed much. After his imprisonment, all those who had been loyal to him had likely lost acceptance of the wards.

He sat down behind the desk and examined the papers with curiosity as his memory was triggered. It was now almost fifty years since he'd touched or read these letters he'd drafted. There was once from a contract in New York informing him about a weak-minded 'Graves' in the Auror office who could be turned. He set all the documents aside as he opened one of the desk's cupboards, revealing his wand.

He'd discarded it after he'd stolen the Elder Wand and yet, he'd kept it all this time.

Sighing, Gellert stretched out his hand and took it, expecting warmth… love… _something_.

And yet, nothing. There was absolutely no reaction, not even a negative one. Gellert frowned slightly and pursed his lip. Then pointing a dried out inkwell, he intoned, " _Wengardium leviosa_!"

The inkwell sat there stubbornly for a moment, before grudgingly floating up to his eye-level. He harrumphed. Well, this was a sudden turn of events. He supposed that this wand would do until he managed to get to Gregorovitch, but for now, he'd have to do with this one for some simple cleaning charms.

He spent some time cleaning the flat, reactivating wards that had lain dormant all this time, and generally making it liveable again. Frustratingly, the wand wouldn't work as well as it had done last time. Then again, he supposed he'd changed somewhat since then, both in temperament and personality. Ha, by Merlin, even physically.

All of this resulted in a frustrated afternoon at the climax of which he resolved to go to the magical shopping district of Königsberg.

.

Hidden behind the entrance to Königsberg's entrance to the Renaissance district behind the many stone arcades, one could simply grasp a wand and pass through one of these and one would enter the hidden magical shopping area. It was massive, much like the German Renaissance architecture of its time had been. Built in the 16th century, this district still accommodated transport via thestral-drawn carriages.

There was a main street to this district which sold mainly luxury items; from brooms, magical artefacts, books, to clothes. Little streets branched out into small courtyards where one could romantically — in the literary sense — sit in a cafe and bemoan the woes of life. Gellert had loved wandering into these little courtyards as a youth in order to read Heine or Goethe. In fact, it was here that he, as a young man, had once met Theodor Fontane — a wizard who'd been well into his 80s at the time.

Gellert wandered down the densely packed streets, a smile twitching at his lips as he observed the developments that had taken place over the last forty-odd years. There was one store that had remained completely and utterly unchanged: _Gregorovitch Zauberstäbe_.

His own wand had been handed down by his grandfather. Prussia, in the time he'd been growing up, had no restrictions as to when a child could begin casting magic with a wand. This was to be determined by the parents. He'd been to Gregorovitch's wand shop once, as a young man, to steal the Elder Wand. And, Merlin, had _that_ been a rush to have.

Gellert entered the store and smiled gleefully as the intense magic washed over him. Each wall of the store was covered with wooden archival cupboards in which, Gellert suspected, lay several wands created from the same core or wood.

"Guten Tag?" he called out into the empty store. There were a few creaks from above as someone suddenly registered that he had entered the store, then a rush of footsteps and then—

A man with a wispy hair and a surprisingly dark beard for his age, appeared behind his counter. His eyes narrowed instantly.

" _Zdravstvuyte_ ," the man said in Russian. Well that and German _were_ technically the official languages of Kaliningrad. Although Russian tended to be more popular with the muggleborns and half-bloods.

"I wish to purchase a wand," Gellert said, continuing in German. Gregorovitch glanced around his store as if to say 'evidently'.

"Have you not heard of the sanction prohibiting me from selling wands to children below the age of eleven?"

Ah, well, it seemed Prussia had modernised its laws.

"I am older than eleven," he stated blandly. Gregorovitch's eyebrow twitched unbelievingly. Gellert stared right back. And technically this was the truth. He was some 100-odd years old.

"And your guardian? To whom may I entrust the responsibility to control your usage of the wand until you go to Durmstrang?"

Gellert cocked his head to the side. He hadn't ever heard that Gregorovitch was a stickler for the rules. Why was he being one now?

"I don't suppose we could ah, reach an understanding? Financial compensation, say."

Gregorovitch snorted before turning away from Gellert.

"Leave boy, before I call the aurors on you."

When Gellert didn't leave, Gregorovitch turned again, this time fury clearly crossing this features. Temperamental little fellow, wasn't he?

It was in this moment that Gellert saw a very familiar little necklace poking out of his robes and his eyes widened minutely. The Deathly Hallows sign. His smirk widened into a smile which seemed to unsettle Gregorovitch.

"What did I say, boy! Leave!"

Gellert continued to smile and for a moment a heavy silence weighed upon them until he suddenly began to speak.

"Ah! Why don't you call the aurors? When they arrive I'll happily tell them that you still support Grindelwald."

Gregorovitch's face blanched and his eyebrows drew together.

"That is an unfounded accusation!" he almost snarled. Gellert folded his hands behind his back and patiently waited for the man to get over his temper. Vernon was easily provoked and he'd lived with him for nine years. He had some experience in dealing with aggressive men.

"Now now, Mykew, that is your name, is it not?" Without waiting for an answer, Gellert continued as he began to pace. Gregorovitch's eyes followed him, filled with uncertainty. "You see, that necklace is quite important to me as it symbolises mastery and rebirth. Yes, you know of the Deathly Hallows? I possessed one once, the Elder Wand. I was quite powerful."

Gregorovitch's jaw loosened enough for his lips to break apart slightly and form a small oval. He blinked. Gellert took his uninterrupted gaze to his advantage and delved into the wandmaker's mind. The confusion was preeminent, as was the irritation. Beyond that, Gellert understood that there was a minute degree of understanding. _Perevloposhenie_ , the Russian word for 'reincarnation' passed through his mind as if it were an afterthought. He grinned.

"Oh yes, in a past life, of course. You are correct. It is good to see I still have loyal followers around. Are you loyal? I hope so. You see, I am Gellert Grindelwald, reborn."

* * *

_To make it somewhat clear, there will be no bashing in this story. I don't support the concept. So if you've come for a 'Gellert-defeats-Dumbledore-with-sass-and-logic'... well, that's not where this is going. Dumbledore happens to be my favourite character and I will not do him the disservice of presenting him as a 'manipulative old coot'. Well, in any case, this story will obviously not be canon-compliant._

_T_ _houghts? :)_


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